


Beer Pong and Blow Torches

by cchristie32



Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, M/M, Tony and Bruce are BFF's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cchristie32/pseuds/cchristie32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Tony doesn't remember Steve. He does. Just not all that well.<br/>Which is why he doesn't understand why Pepper's suddenly banned him from dating the guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I'm particularly fond of this fandom and AU's in general (more room in the sandbox for me to play) so I'm more than happy to read your feedback. This isn't quite so schmoopy as my first fic, but I hope y'all will like it just the same. Actually I hope you'll like it more, since I'm planning on it being quite a bit longer.  
> On another note, I'm particularly bad at updating regularly. I'm willing to admit that. So feel free to bother me as much as you want. In fact, I encourage you to do so, because it might help me get those creative juices flowing.  
> This fic is unbetaed, so I apologize in advance for any grammar, spelling, or continuity mistakes I may have made.

It’s not that Tony doesn’t remember Steve. He does. Just not all that well.

Or at least not as well as Pepper apparently does, because she, as always, is more than willing to remind him of his particular shortcomings.

“You _really_ don’t remember him?” She asks, raising one perfectly tweezed brow at him over her cinnamon latte. Tony finds she’s most terrifying in the mornings.

“I do. No, don’t look at me like that, I _do_ , just bits and pieces…”

“Is one of those pieces about how he used to follow you around like a puppy?” Tony stares blankly into his triple shot cappuccino. He doesn’t know how Pepper can do all that sugar with her coffee, “I didn’t think so.”

“Look just because I don’t remember that specific characteristic of his—”

“People used to make fun of him for it, but he only had eyes for you.”

“Doesn’t mean—Wait, really?” Pepper sighs, rolls her eyes, and crumples up her pastry bag before getting up to reach for her book bag slung over the back of her chair.

“He was in love with you, and you never gave him the time of day.” She stares at him, head inclined in the way she does when she wants him to understand something not being said, as if that ever works.

“He never said anything to me!” He practically yelps, falling out of his chair in his hurry to follow Pepper outside. Several people glare at him as he barrels past them out the door. Pepper can really move when she wants to.

“Why’d you think he always came to the soccer games?”

“ _Everyone_ went to the soccer games. You expect me to notice how often they all went?”

“Okay,” Pepper rounds on him, frowning. It’s never good when she frowns, “Then how about the Physics Club, or your study halls, or the library, or the cafeteria, or the bleachers after school, are _any_ of those ringing a bell? Because he was _always_ there, and you _never_ noticed him. He practically had a breakdown when you left for college.” By the time she’s stopped talking, Tony can tell she’s furious. The thing is, he doesn’t understand why she’s so upset. As far as he can remember, and, yeah, he’ll admit, he doesn’t remember much, but from what he _does_ , Pepper and the kid weren’t too friendly back then. So why is she this upset over a guy she barely knows?

“I can tell what you’re thinking.” She says, narrowing her gaze even further. Tony didn’t even think that was possible.

“You can?”

“I can. You’re wondering why I’m so upset.” She glares at him for another few seconds and turns in a huff off towards the science labs, “I’m upset,” She calls over her shoulder and Tony runs to fall into step with her again, “I’m upset because he’s my friend. Not that you ever called enough to know that,” She sends another pointed glance his way, “After you left, he was different. He went through a huge growth spurt, joined the lacrosse team to balance out the height with some muscle, and he quit the Physics Club to focus on his art. We were in the same art class for two years, and if you’d ever bothered to talk to him like I did, you’d know that he’s a great person, which is why I’m forbidding you to date him.” Tony balks for a moment, because based on what Pepper just so curtly informed him, he’d think she’d _want_ two of her best friends to become better acquainted.

“So what you’re telling me, is that he’s _too_ great of a guy for me to date. Gee, thanks Pep.”

“I know how you are, and don’t play dumb because you know exactly what I’m talking about, which means you know exactly why I’m doing this.” She stops outside the door to the building and turns to catch his gaze.

“Enlighten me.”

“You date someone, and I’m using the word ‘date’ here lightly, for about two and a half seconds before you get bored and move on to the next exciting prospect, meanwhile leaving a trail of heartbreak and confusion in your wake.” And while that hurts, Tony can admit, deep, deep down inside himself, certainly never within a hundred mile radius of Pepper, that it has the ring of truth to it. So, he merely frowns and stares at the people milling around inside.

“You’re gonna be late for your meeting with Professor Richards.” Pepper reminds him lightly. He hums his agreement while glaring at a fellow Junior he suspects has been taking his screwdriver without asking, “Look,” Pepper pauses, waiting dutifully for Tony to turn his attention to her again to continue, “I’m not trying to make you feel bad about yourself. I’d just like to be friends with the both of you, and you know Jane is the only one of your exes who can stand being in the same room as you let alone being your friend.”

“I think I have Darcy to blame for that.”

“What I’m _trying_ to say is, don’t fuck this up for me because I like you both, and you know how I hate it when you make me pick sides.” Tony smirks at her. She only swears when she knows “civilized” language isn’t getting through to him.

“But you’d totally pick mine, right?” Pepper rolls her eyes again and pats him on the head like one would a particularly slow witted dog before heading off towards the English buildings, “Right Pep?” He calls after her.

She doesn’t look back.

“What’d you do this time?” Tony starts, not even bothering to hide his particularly girlish jump of surprise.

“Anyone ever tell you you’d fit in great at a haunted house Darc? Seriously, no costume needed. Sold as is.” He asks, walking briskly past her and into the building. Darcy follows him, managing to look slightly more sedate while still keeping pace with him.

“I just walked up behind you, not my fault you’re so involved with yourself you didn’t notice.” She’s smiling smugly, telling Tony she knows _exactly_ how creepy she can be when she wants to.

“How's the boy toy of the week doing? What was his name? Chad? Carl? Paul? Something with a lllluh?”

“David,” She smirks back at him. It’s one of the things he begrudgingly loves about her. She’s too smart not to know when he’s fucking with her, but never calls him on it either, “We’ve decided to go our separate ways. Such is the curse of l’amour.” She sighs maiden like, presses the back of her hand to her forehead, and almost swoons into a Freshman. He scampers off down the hallway clutching his books to his chest like she’d just assaulted him. Darcy doesn’t notice, “What about you and whatsherface? Or was it a whats _his_ face this time? I just can’t keep up.”

“Ah yes, good old whatshisface. I believe he’s somewhere in the Sigma Tau house facedown in a pool of his own vomit.” Darcy scrunches her face at that, but Tony’s faith in her is rewarded when she voices the source of her distaste.

“He _rushed_? God, I didn’t even know Seniors were allowed to subject themselves to that kind of humiliation. And why would you _want_ to? At this point you’re just getting all of the ass paddlings and none of the perks.” Tony comes to a stop in front of Dr. Richard’s office and turns to leer at her.

“I think that was the attraction, if you know what I mean.”

“Kinky sex!” Darcy exclaims loudly enough for several of the people walking the halls to turn and stare back at them, “I’m proud of you Stark!” She punches his arm, surprisingly strongly for a girl of her size, and smiles broadly up at him.

“You’re not allowed to be proud of me.”

“Well, I’m older so yes I am.”

“Not to interrupt what I’m sure is a scintillating conversation about the various methods of copulation,” Dr. Richards says drily from where he’s stuck his head out of his office door to investigate, “But you’re late for your advisement Tony. Again.” His face is mostly blank, as it usually is, but Tony can tell, somewhere under all those layers of ‘I never learned how to interact with regular people’, Dr. Richards is deeply displeased.

Darcy, being blithely unaware of this, or, more likely, uncaring, simply waves cheerfully at him, “Hi Dr. Richards!” She says before lowering her voice a few octaves, “Say hi to Johnny for me.” And walks off down the hall in a flurry of swayed hips before either man can respond. Both of them stare after her for a moment, Tony suddenly reminded for the hundredth time how baffling he finds it that he’s never slept with her.

“Tony—”

“Right, advisement. I got it Doc,” He pulls the office door open far enough to slip past Richards with a slight smile. He dumps his bag in one of the chairs opposite the desk and slumps himself down in the other, “Advise away.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's some Steve in this one.

Bruce is an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in three different kinds of anger, wrapped in a sarcastic dick. It’s the main reason Tony figures why they’re best friends, that and their shared incalculable knowledge of Physics and near complete disregard for the rules that guide it.

Tony had almost squealed when they were paired as lab partners. The department drawing was supposedly random, and no matter how much he’s come to love Jane in the aftermath of the colossal let down that was their romantic relationship, she and Thor tended to get rowdy in the wee hours of the morning.

Tony Stark sacrifices his peak production hours for no one, not even in the name of sex.

He and Bruce, on the other hand, were a match made in heaven, and if the guy had shown even a hint of homosexual tendencies, Tony would have proposed a thousand times over by now. As it is, he’s pretty damn satisfied with their working friendship.

Bruce’s quieter tendencies balanced out Tony’s occasionally admittedly more obnoxious ones, Tony was willing to overlook the odd temper tantrum with the equipment so long as coffee was provided in apology the following morning, Bruce could deflect the most determined of Tony’s exes with his generally prickly demeanor, and they managed to perform a hell of a duet when Bruce so happened to be in the mood.

All of this is why he doesn’t understand why Bruce, angry little light of his life, has forsaken him so when he walks into their lab space to find him sitting with Steve fucking Rogers at Tony’s work station. It’s not that he doesn’t like the guy. Their relationship exists _because_ Tony likes him, but he can’t help but feel a little sour in the face of someone Pepper has deemed too good for him. It’s a blow to his not inconsiderable ego, which he happens to be quite protective of.

They’re in the middle of conversation, something hushed and polite, so neither of them notice as Tony stops in the doorway to sputter at them like the talking toaster he’d tried to build the week before while avoiding what Bruce and his professors have termed “real homework.” Bruce shifts to scratch an itch over his eyebrow, catches sight of him, and smirks, the dick. Anyone who’s ever called him sweet, ahem _Pepper_ ahem, was sorely mistaken, “Tony,” He says feigning surprise and Steve whirls around on his stool, “Advisement over already?”

“Oh you know Richards, ‘Follow lab protocol, blah, blah, no more explosions, blah, blah, the transfer students keep complaining about the smell, blah, blah, blah.’ Swear he should just write up a transcript. It’d save us both a hell of a lot of time.” He drops his bag unceremoniously to the floor by the door and straightens to cross his arms. Bruce is still smirking. Dick, “Anyway, if he really gave a shit he’d know you’re the one responsible for all the explosions.”

“I’ll finish that particle accelerator before graduation. You watch.” Bruce points at him accusingly.

“Yeah, yeah Newton. You’re the bad boy of the Physics department. We get it.” Tony rolls his eyes and turns to Steve, who seems to have been watching them with poorly concealed amusement, “So Stevie,” He frowns at the nickname, and Tony resolutely does not care, “What’s up?”

“I uh,” Steve stands and rubs his hands nervously down over his jeans, “I just wanted to apologize, for Pepper. She gets so protective of me, you’d think I was still—Anyway, I’m sorry. For that. And I called her this morning and told her not to blame you. You’d think turning eighteen would earn you some respect for your decisions, right?” He looks up, smiling sheepishly at Tony. Bruce turns in his chair and propels himself back to his corner of the room.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t—“

“I don’t turn eighteen for another three weeks.”

“Oh,” Steve looks down at his shoes again like Tony just told him he was being a bad puppy, “I didn’t—Well, I forgot. That you’re younger than me.”

“My goal in life.” Tony declares cheerfully, because it’s the truth. Wandering around with a graduate degree knowledge of anything won’t do anyone much good if everyone else is constantly being reminded they can’t vote yet.

“I guess I’ll let you get back to work.” Steve says, only a fraction less doleful than he was before.

Looking at him, Tony is now drawing a blank as to how he’d become so infatuated with the guy in the first place. Sure, he’s built, handsome in the toothpaste commercial kind of way, nice to a fault, and is obviously more mature than the majority of the people Tony surrounds himself with, but his self-confidence is in need of a major overhaul. Then Steve looks up and practically blinds him with the force of his grin.

Oh, yeah. That’s why.

So Tony, of course, does something very stupid then, and asks Steve to stay, “I mean, you’ve already met Bruce, and he didn’t manage to scare you away with his whole bridge troll routine.”

“You have to pay the troll toll!” Bruce calls from his corner of doom. Tony briefly considers how much Steve would disapprove if he flipped Bruce off.

“I—“ When Tony turns back to him, Steve looks stunned, and he doesn’t think it’s because he can somehow divine devious thoughts, “Thank you.” He finishes softly, and Tony realizes with sudden clarity what an asshole he’s been.

Steve is stunned because this is the first time Tony’s been nice to him.

Ever.

“But I kind of have to go. I have my Organic Chem lab in twenty minutes.”

“Oh,” Tony says, disproportionately disappointed. He’s supposed to _want_ Steve not to be around, “Well, stop by any time. Just remember to bring your passport.”

“I—What?”

“Joke, Steve. I was joking.”

“Oh…Yeah.” He smiles again, and Tony has to casually lean against the counter for fear of becoming weak in the knees.

“And don’t worry about Pep. She just likes to be angry in my general direction. So does Bruce, coincidentally.”

“It’s not a coincidence if you’re a masochist.” Bruce calls out again, not even bothering to turn away from his computer. Tony crumples up a piece of graph paper and throws it at his head.

“So… I’ll see you later?” Steve asks, smiling slightly at the two of them again.

“Yeah.” Tony says, and watches Steve walk out down the hall with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, Tony gets a text from Pepper. _I’m watching you_.

She’s definitely creepier than Darcy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special points for those of you who caught the It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia reference!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets the gang. Things go about as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'd like to apologize for not posting for so long. Every time school starts up again, I kind of get swallowed up in it. I'm going to try my best to post more regularly until the story's done. For those of you who are keeping up with it, I really appreciate it! And for those of you just joining, the more the merrier!

 

“So then she gives me this look, like I didn’t know it was my Sharpie—”

“I’m sorry, does this story have a point?”

“My point is,” Jane glares at Tony long-sufferingly, “that Nina’s a bitch.”

“Oh thank God, now we can go on living our lives.” Tony sighs exaggeratedly over his sandwich. Jane leans over the table to punch him in the arm, which he then rubs sullenly. She and Darcy must be taking the same boxing class.

“She’s just jealous because I’m getting some and she isn’t.” Tony smirks at her and steals a fry from her plate.

“Really? You don’t think it’s because you and Thor have sex on your desk at three in the morning? Because I think it might be that.”

“Whatever,” Jane sighs, “It’s not like she was there.” She takes a chip from Tony’s plate.

“Who was where for what?” Clint lands, hard, on the seat next to Tony’s. He takes four fries from Jane’s plate, she slaps his hand, but he still makes away with two, stuffing them into his mouth and grinning.

“None of your business, cretin.” Jane declares haughtily and pulls her plate closer.

“Jane’s been doing the nasty in the lab.”

“Tony!” She squeals and punches him in the chest this time. It hurts less, but only marginally, besides the fact that Clint is laughing at him.

“What? Not like everyone else doesn’t know why he comes to visit you. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a moaner.”

“Really?” Clint leers over the table and waggles his eyebrows at Jane. Tony’s only somewhat in love with how tactless he is.

“I don’t even remotely want to know why you’re interested in that.” Jane says deadpan before leaning back in her seat to cross her arms. Clint takes the opportunity to grab a handful of fries from her plate. She just rolls her eyes at him.

“Jesus Clint,” Tony will never not find it scary how consistently Natasha manages to sneak up on him in crowded areas, “I thought we discussed you trying to eat like a normal human being from now on.” She glares down at him from her stance at Tony’s other side.

“But baby,” Clint whines with his mouth half full, “I know you’ll love me no matter what I eat like.” He smiles up at her goofily like a lovesick jackass.

“I will,” She says, unimpressed by his whimpering, “but whether or not you’ll be getting sex any time in the foreseeable future is another matter.” Clint swallows obediently at that, looking up at her pleading and wide eyed, serious this time around.

“Good boy.” She says and walks over to slide into the seat next to Jane’s. From the way Clint goes all gooey next to him, Tony can guess he doesn’t want to know what they’re doing under the table.

“Can you tell him to stop eating my food too?” Jane asks sweetly while glaring at Clint.

“You let Tony eat your food!” Clint rises up in his seat indignantly.

“Yeah, well I let Tony fuck me too. Doesn’t mean I’d allow you the same privilege, does it?” Tony chokes out a laugh. It’s not often Jane breaks out with vulgarity, but when she does, it’s put to good use.

He’d initially been attracted to her after witnessing her bitch out Phil Coulson, back when he was their Freshman RA, for the seizure of some equipment she’d needed for an Astronomy class. She’d stood in the middle of their hall threatening to call her professor and swearing so loudly that half of the other residents had come out of their rooms just to watch until he reluctantly returned whatever it was he’d taken.

Tony’s relationship with her, surprisingly, had been the most relaxed of his many, and the few dates they’d gone on usually consisted of going to parties and mocking everyone else from a corner. They hadn’t so much broken up as fizzled out, and even then Tony found her watching movies in his room more weekends than not, Darcy sprawled out eating popcorn on his bed.

That all stopped when she met Thor.

Thor the Swedish transfer student made in the likeness of Nordic Gods, who even Tony had entertained a few ideas about climbing. Tony had wanted to hate him at first, but he was just so relentlessly happy that after spending a few minutes with him no one could help but like the guy. He was also comically naive about American culture, which, needless to say, had provided hours of endless entertainment for Tony.

He still maintained that watching Thor watch Jersey Shore could be a show in its own right.

Once Jane had mustered up the courage to introduce him to the rest of their motley crew, Thor and Clint had become unexpectedly close. Thor was enamored with Clint’s so-called “warrior spirit.” Apparently picking a fight with a guy twice your size while completely shitfaced qualified you as a warrior. Clint just loved having a drinking buddy who could finally keep up with him. They were suddenly the dynamic duo.

And after hours of watching Jane and Thor kissing, and hugging, and holding hands, and exchanging chocolates in heart shaped boxes, and writing each other love sonnets, after watching Thor integrate himself seamlessly with her friends, listening patiently to scientific jargon he only understood the half of, accepting her life as if it had always been a part of his own, Tony just sort of… gave up. Because he’d thought, once upon a time, that if he was gonna do it, have a real relationship, it would have been with Jane.

So when he sees Steve walk into the commissary with a scruffy disgruntled looking guy in tow, he’s not sure what to do. All of the people he’s slept with over the last couple of years have been fun, no point in putting up with them if they aren’t, but Steve is something else all together. Steve blushes when Tony’s nearby, he gets flustered so easily, he stammers, and smiles through all of it, but most importantly Steve is brave. Not many people would have the courage to walk up to someone who’s ignored them their whole lives at a party and introduce themselves, simple, straightforward, no macho posturing bullshit. It makes Tony want to go out and find some bravery of his own, and he hasn’t even slept with the guy yet.

It scares him, a little bit.

He watches Steve cross the room, noticing the considerable amount of female attention he’s garnering while still being seemingly oblivious to it. He exchanges a few words with the scruffy guy and comes to a stop in the pizza line with him, smiling to himself. The girl behind him tries to start up a conversation, scruffy guy grunts a few times, and Steve takes to it like a fish to water, pointing at the board animatedly and making faces at a few of the options. Tony looks away when the girl touches his arm.

By this point, he’s been staring long enough to catch some female attention of his own. Natasha doesn’t bother hiding the fact that she’s been watching him, and very deliberately turns to follow where his gaze had lingered. He can tell when she spots Steve, her eyebrows raising just so. Clint and Jane are throwing fries and scraps of trash from the table at each other, both giggling like schoolgirls, and don’t notice them until Natasha turns back and says, “Who’s that?”

Clint throws the crumpled receipt in his hand, and all three of them are suddenly looking at Tony. He ducks his head and pretends to be very interested in the sandwich he’d abandoned twenty minutes ago, “No one.” He nearly winces at how forced it sounds. 

“Who are you guys talking about?” Jane asks, and Tony can tell, without looking up, that she’s smiling wickedly.

“The All-American blonde getting pizza.” Tony almost groans, forcing himself not to give in to the urge to bury his head in his hands, and looks up. Of course, they’re all staring at Steve.

“Is that the guy Pepper told you, you couldn’t date?” Natasha looks back and asks him, the ghost of a smile pulling at her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tony says the same time as Clint blurts gleefully, “Wait, Pepper did what?”

“Apparently,” Tony cuts in before Natasha can start, glaring at her ineffectually, “I’m not allowed to date her friends.”

“His name’s Steve.” Natasha says, smiling full force now. Tony’s convinced the only thing that makes her truly happy is his suffering.

“Steve,” Jane muses while still blatantly studying him, “It suits him.”

“Yes, I know. He’s dreamy. Can we stop now?” Tony pleads, trying to prey on his friends’ sense of compassion to get them to drop the subject.

“Oh no Stark,” Clint effectively crushes Tony’s hope for any decency in the world, “This is too good. You have to tell us why she won’t let you have your way with him.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything Barton.” Tony grumps and gives in to the urge to rest his head on the tabletop. Just for a minute. Maybe until they leave.

“While that’s true, we’re just gonna guess until you cough it up.” Clint claps him on the back.

“He’s a secret government spy.” Jane says.

“He’s too goofy to be a spy.” Natasha shakes her head.

“Maybe, or maybe he’s just that good.” Clint says and Tony hears the soft pat of a fry hitting the tray next to his head, “That one almost hit my eye.”

“Maybe Pepper wants him for herself.” Natasha suggests and Jane hums possible agreement.

“He’s too goody-two-shoes for her. She has a well documented soft spot for assholes.” Clint says.

“Oh, ‘Ha, ha.’ I assume that was a shot at me.” Tony tells the floor.

“Not intentionally, but I think you taking it that way says more about you than it does about me.”

“Boys, back to matter at hand,” Jane reproves lightly, “I think he’s hiding deep seated emotional problems under that sunny exterior. He’s probably manic depressive.”

“Nah, treatable condition, not an issue. Oh, I got it! He’s a pre-op transgender!” Clint says excitedly, and then Natasha and Jane actually agree with him.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Tony grumbles and pushes himself upright again, “He’s not transgendered. Besides I'm bisexual." 

"It's an emotionally vulnerable period of transition." Clint adds unhelpfully.

"That's not... It’s not—She has an issue with me dating him, not him dating me. You get it?”

“So what,” Jane scoffs, “He’s too good for you?”

“Everyone’s too good for him.” Clint says and grunts following a suspicious thump from under the table. Natasha’s glaring at him. A few minutes of silence pass before Jane’s face falls and her eyes widen as she leans forward.

“Oh my God, that’s it isn’t it. Tony, did she say you weren’t good enough for him?”

“Not in so many words…” He trails off lamely as Jane pulls his hands into hers.

“Tony, I—I can’t believe she said that.”

And, of course, at this, his most shining moment, Steve shows up.

“Um… Am I interrupting?” He asks uneasily.

“No, nope, not at all!” Tony declares brightly and hastily pulls his hands from Jane’s grasp. She frowns, but thankfully doesn’t say anything.

“Oh good, I, uh,” Steve looks up and around the table, “Hi.” He gives everyone a small wave.

“Oh, yeah, right. Steve, this is Jane, Natasha, and Clint. Guys this is Steve.”

“Hi Steve!” Clint says cheerfully and waves back. Natasha rolls her eyes at him before smiling slightly at Steve.

“So you’re Pepper’s friend?” Jane asks sweetly, but Tony can tell she’s wary of him. Which is… actually pretty funny. Of all the people to be afraid of, Steve’s a kitten.

“Yeah, we, uh, went to high school together.” He answers and rubs his hand along the back of his neck, “So Tony I—”

“Where’s your pizza?” Natasha asks slowly. Steve looks up in surprise, understandably confused, and holds up a white plastic bag.

“We um,” Tony ducks his gaze, “I saw you. In line.”

“Right,” Steve says quietly, almost to himself, and starts again louder, “Do you—“

“Okay! We’re going now!” Tony announces, admittedly too loud when a few people from the tables around theirs look up from their own conversations to stare at him, “I’ll see you guys later.” Tony says with a nod in their general direction as he tries not to notice they’re all watching him strangely. He grabs his messenger bag and plants his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades, “Come on Steve.” He says and pushes him towards the doors.

If this most recent interaction is any indication of their future, Tony feels safe in saying their relationship was doomed from the start.


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m sorry about them. They’re—well, there’s not really a word for what they are.” Tony says once he’s got Steve safely out into the courtyard.

“It’s okay.” Steve says.

“I mean, I put up with them because they’re my friends and they’re the least stupid people I’ve met here. But that doesn’t mean you have to like them—“

“Tony,”

“Most people don’t like us. We’re a weird bunch, and Clint’s an asshole when he’s drunk, which is pretty much all weekend every weekend—“

“Tony,”

“And Natasha’s the jealous type. I think she’s broken about twenty different girls’ fingers just for _looking_ at Clint the wrong way—“

“Tony,”

“And if Pepper’s protective of you, I don’t even have a word for what Jane is of me—”

“ _TONY._ ”

Tony stops and turns to look at Steve, who looks like he’s torn between crying and laughing. Tony’s familiar with the expression, he tends to bring it out in people, especially in his professors.

“Your friends were great.” Steve says, smiling now. It’s not that megawatt, knock your socks off kind, but it’s becoming a close second, “And Pepper’s protective of you too.”

“Well, at any rate she likes you more.” Steve opens his mouth to dispute the issue, but Tony really doesn’t feel like revealing the reason he knows it’s the truth, “Did you need me for something?”

“Oh,” Steve says, obviously a little disoriented by the sudden change in subject, “I just hadn’t seen you in a couple of days.”

“Oh.” Tony says lamely, because that simple statement shouldn’t make him go all warm and fuzzy inside.

“It’s—you told me to come by and I didn’t, but I felt bad so when I saw you I just wanted to talk to you.” From the way Steve is shifting on his feet and speaking his mind so sweetly and plainly, Tony can imagine this is what it’s like to be the girl on a teen drama.

It’s surprisingly nice.

“I’m Blair Waldorf.” He says, sounding somewhat mystified.

“Who?”

“You’ve never seen Gossip Girl,” Tony looks at him appraisingly, “Of course you’ve never seen Gossip Girl.”

“Is that something I should be watching?”

“No. God, no. Steve don’t ever watch Gossip Girl. I like you the way you are. You may, however, watch Dawson’s Creek.” And Steve looks really very pleased at that. Tony’s assuming it’s because Tony likes him the way he is, not his newfound freedom to watch teens spew pseudo intellectual dialogue at each other and cry hysterically.

“I’ve never seen that either.”

“You were born in the nineties Steve. It’s your duty to watch at least one season of Dawson’s Creek if only to remember how much they sucked. Or at the very least it’ll clue you into why people are suddenly so fascinated with James Van Der Beek again.” Steve looks as if he’s on the brink of giggling.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“No one does. He doesn’t even know anymore. He’s just a parody of a parody of a parody. He’s the Matrix.”

“I’ve seen that one.”

“Good! See Steve, we’re making progress here.” Steve shakes his head at him still smiling, exasperated and fond, and Tony really hasn’t known him long enough for that to matter as much as it does.

“Maybe you should make me a list.”

“Cultural Education by Tony Stark. I do like the sound of that. In fact, I think Thor’s already in that class. He can give you a few pointers.”

“I don’t know who that is either.”

“You’re not supposed to. He’s just Jane’s boyfriend. He’s from Sweden, and his parents actually thought it’d be a good idea to name him after the Nordic God of Thunder.”

“Jane’s boyfriend?” Steve repeats, and if Tony’s not mistaken he sounds kind of surprised.

“Yeah. They’ve been going out for like two years. Why? Did you want me to set you up with her, because believe me man that is a road I’ve been down before and she gets _very_ angry when I try to—“

“No! Tony, no. I just thought…you two…” Steve trails off and gestures vaguely to the left, blushing down at the bench next to Tony’s leg.

“Me and Jane? Why’d you think that?” Tony’s only surprised because even when they were dating, people tended to think they were brother and sister more often than not.

“I just—You two were holding hands, and she didn’t seem to like me…much.”

“She likes you fine.” Which is a lie, but he’s pretty sure Jane _will_ like him, once she gets to know him, “She’s just—How Pepper is with you, that’s how Jane is with me. And I know Pepper loves me and wants me to be happy and all that, but she took off the kid gloves a long time ago. Jane still coddles me. Probably why I like her more right now.”

“You keep score?” Steve’s grinning lopsidedly at him, knowing without really knowing Tony that he’s not being serious.

“Well, Jane also didn’t chew me out for drunkenly molesting you at a frat house. So, yeah she’s winning.” Steve’s suddenly gone beet red, and Tony feels instinctually that he’s said the wrong thing.

Again.

“Pepper seems to have forgotten that there were two of us there.” He says quietly, almost all trace of levity gone from his voice.

“She tends to do that when I fuck up, but in her defense it usually is my fault.”

“’Your fault.’” Steve repeats tensely. Tony can tell from the set of his shoulders he’s said the wrong thing.

He knows.

“It’s probably not what you bargained for, when you introduced yourself. It wasn’t fair to you.” Steve’s mouth twists, and Tony wants nothing more than to reach out and smooth it again.

“I thought you—Why won’t anyone believe me when I say I know what I’m doing? I know what I did and I don’t—I don’t _blame_ you for anything.” Steve is actually angry now, and it’s an emotion Tony gets the feeling he rarely expresses.

“Okay.” Tony says, because he can’t do much more than accept that. As good as Tony is at talking himself into corners, he doesn’t want Steve any more upset than he already is.

“I just want you to trust me.” Steve’s forehead smoothes out and looks at Tony with soft eyes, a slight note of pleading in his voice.

“I do.” As much as that statement was meant to appease, Tony’s surprised to find he actually means it. Steve must see some of his sincerity in his face, because he nods and smiles. It’s a tired one, but probably as close to the megawatt as they’re gonna get under the circumstances.

“Okay. I can work with that.”

“Okay. Good.”

“I’ll see you later then?” Steve asks, hopeful, and there aren’t enough threats in the world for Pepper to throw at him to make him refuse that.

“You know where I live.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I think you’re seriously underestimating how much time Bruce and I spend in that lab.” Steve laughs, turns to walk back towards the commissary, and hangs a left on the main pathway.

Tony takes a minute as he watches him leave to try and convince himself he’s not being very stupid. Then his phone rings, and Pepper wastes no time in reminding him that he’s generally very stupid.

“Did you tell Jane I told you you could _never_ love anyone?” She sounds equal parts annoyed and amused.

“Do you all tweet each other all day just to make sure one of you is making me miserable?” He asks, starting off in the way he’d been heading in with Steve.

“I asked you first.”

“I told her you said I wasn’t allowed to date your friends. She inferred that you’d told me I was a horrible person unworthy of your acquaintances, who would die bitter and miserable and alone. I didn’t have the chance to correct her.”

“We have a Google calendar.” She says and hangs up. Tony smiles to himself.

She might be tied with Jane.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is adorable. Erik is scary. Tony is stoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is recreational drug use in this chapter.

Charles is the one person in Tony’s life he’d always thought he should spend more time with, wants to even, but never does. It’s due, at least in part, to Charles’ boyfriend, Erik something or other German sounding. The guy is never around very long, always in a rush when Tony comes by, but he glares at Tony whenever he leaves. If one hair on Charles’ head is ever out of place, Tony doesn’t doubt he’ll be the one to pay for it. Dearly.

Charles is either ignorant of the little exchanges, or pretending to be, because he always simply kisses Erik goodbye and smiles after him dreamily before getting down to business. And, oh, what a glorious business it is.

Charles is, like an abnormally high percentage of Tony’s friends, of a genius level IQ. He’s the most promising graduate student in his field, at the top of the dean’s list, his PhD thesis is already causing some rumblings in the scientific community, and he also just happens to sell the best pot on the East coast. Tony knows it’s no coincidence, because Charles’ favorite pastime seems to be reminding him of it.

“I just don’t see why, when my mind is so open, why I shouldn’t try and help others to open their minds.” He sighs, passing Tony a blunt with a significantly delayed reaction time. He doesn’t let go until Tony’s already had a hold of it for about ten seconds. He always breaks out the good stuff for Tony.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Tony says around a lungful of smoke before exhaling heavily, “your shit has done wonders for Bruce. He hasn’t had a tantrum in like, fuck, like three months.”

“He must be fucking someone.” Tony giggles, because hearing Charles say that and looking at him all tiny and British in his wool sweater, is pretty fucking hilarious. Besides, the idea of Bruce actually making the effort to go out and get some is also comically far outside the realm of possibility, “I’m serious. Why do you think I’m so calm all the time?”

“Because you have five pounds of weed in your spare bedroom?”

Charles grins slyly at him as he sets the blunt down on the ashtray, “That and Erik fucks me boneless everyday.” Tony wrinkles his nose at that.

No matter how objectively attractive the two of them are, he can’t imagine dark broody Erik and carefree Charles coming together… sexually, “Trust me, it’s electric.” Sometimes Tony swears Charles can read his mind, that or his brain to mouth filter is seriously malfunctioning again, “It’s the second one. No, wait, what am I saying. I _can_ read your mind. Now worship me.”

“That act might work on your first time customers, but I’ve known you too long. Even if you could read my mind I wouldn’t fear you enough to worship you.” Charles frowns.

“Why not?” And, oh God, he’s actually pouting. It’s almost too adorable.

“One, because your making that face. Two, because I’m like ten years younger than you and still three inches taller. Three, there isn’t a mean bone in your body. In fact, you’re like a bowl of pudding. A big talking bowl of pudding, who likes genes.” Yeah. Tony’s probably hit his limit.

Charles pouts some more down at his belly and pokes it morosely, “Do you think I should join a gym?”

“What are you talking about?” Tony squints at him.

“I think Erik wants me to, but he won’t ask.” Tony snorts.

“All Erik wants you to do is to let him lock you away in a tower like a Medieval child bride.”

“Really?” Erik asks wryly from behind him, and Jesus Christ he and Natasha must be related somehow, “I wasn’t aware of that.” Tony is insanely grateful to find he doesn’t sound angry, so much so that he’s not going to push his luck by turning around to face him.

“Darling!” Charles cries excitedly, then frowns at him, “How long have you been there?”

“Since the idiot started talking.” Erik replies so smoothly that Tony gets the feeling he has to answer that question a lot, Charles isn’t the most in tune with his physical surroundings even when sober. He taps Tony on the head with what feels like a rolled up magazine as he moves to join Charles on the couch and tosses a copy of Genetics Quarterly atop the mess on the coffee table. Charles leans in for a kiss hello, which Erik obligingly provides before turning to smile, actually smile at Tony.

“Now, now, darling don’t insult his intelligence just because he buggered up that toaster—“

“I swear to God that thing was evil!” Tony rises in his seat to shout grumpily before he notices that they’re both smiling slyly at each other, goading him on.

He might have made a huge mistake in staying long enough for Erik to come home from work. He’s not sure how long it’s been actually. Judging from the amount of Twinkies wrappers, empty Bugles bags, and cans of Mountain Dew littering the floor around them, too long.

“I’m sure it was.” Charles says in his patronizing-but-not-really-patronizing-it’s-charming-because-I’m-British voice. Tony kind of hates how mellifluous he is.

“I’m sure most toasters are evil.” Erik says reassuringly, and Tony’s probably still in shock from finding out the guy has any setting other than KILL THINGS.

“Well, I smashed that one with a hammer, so where’s my fucking medal?” He grumbles mostly to himself. Erik and Charles smile at each other some more.

“Oh darling, he’s so cute, can we keep him?” Charles sighs dramatically and latches onto Erik’s arm with both hands.

“I told you, not until he’s housebroken.”

“Fuck you, I’m housebroken. And if anyone here’s the puppy it’s him.” Tony points at Charles, who clutches his chest in feigned offense.

“You’re a little less peppy today than usual Skipper. What’s the problem?” Tony stares at Erik blankly. He’s honestly not sure how he just said all that with a straight face.

“He’s not getting any.” Charles says and nods sagely.

“No—“ Tony blurts before he can help himself.

“No, you’re not, or no, you are?” Erik asks and raises an eyebrow at him.

“I am—I just—“

“Someone’s cockblocking him!” Charles shouts in excitement, and Tony has to wonder again whether he really can read minds.

“Ah,” Erik nods, “So there’s no drought, but the city’s put a cap on your water usage anyway.” Which is a surprisingly insightful metaphor coming from a guy, who up until a few minutes ago, Tony thought could only speak in series’ of grunts.

“Pepper told me I can’t date her friend Steve.”

“Who’s Pepper?” Erik turns to ask Charles, which is weird because Tony’s the one who mentioned her, she’s Tony’s best friend. Then again, their whole relationship is weird. This whole day has been weird.

“Tony’s best friend from high school.”

“And who’s Steve?”

“The bloke he wants to bag, I’m guessing.” Erik gives Charles a very unimpressed look and turns back to Tony. Charles smiles up at him impishly.

“Who’s Steve?” Erik actually seems interested in Tony’s answer, and if Tony weren’t still riding the edge of a buzz he’d have a hell of a lot more questions about that.

“He’s Pepper’s friend from high school, from after I left. Apparently my pathetic excuses for relationships aren’t good enough for the likes of him.” Tony feels distinctly less happy than he had before Erik came home.

“Yes, that sounds like something Pepper would say.” Charles notes dryly and Erik elbows him gently in the stomach for it.

“Sounds like something _you_ would say. So, why is this guy so goddamned special?” Tony almost laughs, but he likes Erik like this, talkative, unexpectedly considerate, and not outwardly hostile towards him. It probably wouldn’t due to make him angry.

“He had a crush on me in high school, and apparently I kind of… broke his heart. Not intentionally. It was more because I was oblivious. I tend to do that.”

“So? How does that have anything to do with you now?” Erik asks slightly zealously.

“It doesn’t?”

“I chased Charles for four years, you don’t see me resenting him now do you? And I guarantee he was ten times the slut you could ever be.” Charles squeaks indignantly from where he’s slumped halfway off the couch at Erik’s side. He gets a light slap on the thigh for it and then frowns at Erik’s head.

“He was a manwhore?” Tony asks delightedly. All he’s ever known is the Charles of Charles _and_ Erik. He can’t really imagine a world where they weren’t fiercely possessive of each other.

“I was _not_ —“

“Of the highest degree.”

“—a _whore_. I mean, really.”

“He had the worst pick up lines I’d ever heard. Women seemed to like him in spite of that.”

“Those lines were _fine_ —“

“They were terrible.”

“I got more dates out of those lines than you ever did your whole life, you juvenile delinquent—“

“I think it might have been because he’s small and nonthreatening.”

“You _wished_ I would have used those lines on you—“

“He did. Several times, on our first date as a matter of fact. British Don Juans never turn out well.”

“Right, see how much sex you get this week then.” Charles crosses his arms in a huff and glares sulkily at the coffee table while Erik smiles down at him affectionately.

“You ought to remember how that strategy worked out for you last time before you make threats like that.” And just like that, Charles’ face clears, bit by bit, until he allows himself to be tugged into lying with his head in Erik’s lap.

“Point is, if we can’t fuck it up, then you can probably only mildly fuck it up.” Tony registers Erik’s backhanded compliment, but chooses to focus on the positive in it, because looking at the two of them squabbling lovingly in their element, he knows he wants that. With Steve.

“You’re a lot nicer than I thought you’d be.” Tony says while looking Erik up and down suspiciously. He’s just sitting there absently stroking his fingers through Charles’ hair.

“Yes, that seems to be the general consensus.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has issues. A lot of them.

Tony leaves Charles’ feeling buoyed in a way he hasn’t since “meeting” Steve. He makes a mental note to try and talk to Erik more often before Charles breaks out his personal stash.

It’s still several days before he’s built up enough courage to actually ask Steve out on a date, Pepper be damned, but by the following Tuesday he thinks he’s got his plan of action mostly figured out.

Of course, nothing ever goes to plan for Tony.

He’s about to head out for class, maybe stop by the lab and help Bruce with some new fusion project he’s been working on, when his father calls. Though one might expect it, these semi-annual check-ins from Howard are never heralded by the usual precursors of doom. No locust plagues, no bloody lakes or rivers, no epic black storm clouds blocking out the sun, just the pitchy personalized ringtone that turns Tony’s blood to ice.

He’s tried to explain his relationship with his father only a handful of times, mostly to Pepper, but each time he finds his own words inadequate. He loves his father, in a way he knows the man himself has never earned, or even attempted to earn. He’s also aware that he’s been conditioned from birth to crave his father’s approval, as is the Stark family way, but none of this knowledge eases the bone deep _want_ he has for any sort of connection to Howard. It’s why he chose to study Physics.

He’s certainly apt in the field, but more than that he’s been told time and time again that his intelligence is a gift, one that Howard so magnanimously bestowed upon him the moment he chose to sire an heir. Tony is, he knows, he _knows_ , the vessel for his father’s legacy, and the constant criticism somehow manages to make him strive to be worthy of it rather than reject it.

So, as much as he’d like to press the ignore call button on his StarkPhone, the model _he_ designed that summer working in R &D without so much as a “Good Job” to mark the accomplishment, he can’t.

The call goes much as those in the past have, no miraculous father son bonding moment, Howard’s hmm’s and ah’s are as loaded as they’ve ever been, and Tony copes with it the same way he always has. He calls Clint, and they go out in the middle of the afternoon to get blackout drunk. After about five, he looses track of where they are, even looses track of Clint a couple of times, but Clint always finds him so they can head out to the next bar on the list.

He’s vaguely aware of half conversations humming around his head, shot glasses being pressed into his palm, and the occasional buzzing of his phone in his pocket. It’s what seems to be a few more hours of this before he ends up at some frat party nursing a cup of flat beer until he looks up to find Rhodey staring down at him disapprovingly.

“Its Tuesday.” Rhodey states blankly as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s probably unhappy, but in his current state Tony can’t be sure.

“I… I knew that.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Why are _you_ here?” Rhodey sighs, put upon in a way he’s been since the start of their friendship but never really seemed to have minded, and spares an exasperated glance towards the ceiling.

“I _live_ here, Tony. I _have_ to be here.” Now that he mentions it, Tony does seem to remember this couch.

“I like your couch.”

“What happened?”

“What?”

“You’re here, shitfaced, Clint is slumped over my toilet, also shitfaced, and it’s only Tuesday. I’m starting to notice a pattern here.” It takes him a moment to push through the fog of whatever the fuck Clint has been pouring down his throat all night, from the feel of his throat it might have been motor oil, but he eventually manages to remember the sigh Howard gave as he said goodbye, not bothering to wait for Tony to say it back before hanging up.

“Shit. My uh… my dad called today.” Rhodey’s face softens some at that. He knows, almost better than Pepper does, how badly his father has managed to fuck him up, and Tony’s thankful he doesn’t have to explain any further.

“You sit tight, huh? I’m gonna get you some water.” Rhodey leans down to pat him on the cheek, still three shades harder than gentle.

“I love you.” Tony says, warmth spreading back through his limbs at the gesture. Rhodey takes care of him, in his own way, and in the back of his mind Tony knows there’s a good reason he ended up here tonight.

“I love you too. Now, stay put. You can handle that.” It’s after Rhodey leaves for the kitchen, Tony staring after him dreamily, that he catches sight of Steve. He’s nestled in a corner not far from him, holding his own cup close to his chest, and staring at Tony, face white as a sheet. As their eyes meet, Steve shocks into motion, saying goodbye to the people standing near him before bolting towards the door. Somehow, Tony gathers up enough coordination to follow him, panicking as he stumbles out the door after him calling his name.

“Steve! Where are you going?” He’s ridiculous, must look it even more so, which is something even this drunk he can realize, but he has to set the record straight. He has to tell Steve what happened, what _really_ happened, because he knows what that must have looked like. Even if Steve believed that he’s not dating Jane, he definitely thinks he’s with Rhodey now, “Steve! Please stop! I’m gonna fall over.”

They’re past the crowd gathered on the lawn and Steve is still walking determinedly down the darkened street with his shoulders hunched forward. He’s almost looked back three times now, all Tony has to do is keep yelling at him until he does. It’s one of the few things he’s still mentally equipped to do.

“Steve—I just—Has anyone told you you walk really fast? You—Just please slow down? I know what you’re thinking but you’re wrong. Would I be following you if Rhodey was my boyfriend? I don’t think I would—“

“ _God,_ you are the most _frustrating_ person I’ve ever met!” Steve yells at the sky before turning on him. Tony can’t see much of him in the streetlight but his chest is heaving and his hands are clenched tightly at his sides.

“I know that. Believe me I do. I just wanted you to know, you know, that Rhodey and I aren’t dating. We’re probably as far from dating as you can get.”

“I don’t know, you looked pretty close to me.” Steve grumbles, no small amount of bitterness in his voice.

“Yeah, well, this may come as a surprise to you, but I require several people to help me survive. I grew up with nannies, don’t do so well on my own. Rhodey’s just one of those people who, you know, cares if I die.” Steve tense even more at that and Tony wonders whether he’s ever going to say the right thing.

“I care.” Steve says tersely, lowly enough that it takes Tony a few seconds to realize what he’s said.

“You—you do?”

“ _Yes_. Tony, do you have any idea, _any_ idea how long I’ve spent dreaming about you saying that to me, and you just—it was so _easy_ , and he was _touching_ you like I never have, never will, and I just—I get it, okay. I’ll leave you alone now. It was stupid of me to even think I stood a chance—Just—I have to go. Home.” He turns, and Tony’s a second behind him but he does lurch the few feet forward it takes to grab hold of Steve’s shirt.

“No. No, you’re not leaving. I—I have something to tell you.” Steve has gone painfully still in front of him, leaning carefully forward so that Tony’s knuckles won’t touch his back. Tony swallows, “I fucked up Steve. I was a shit in high school, kind of still am now, and I—I don’t know what I did. What I did to deserve you, but—fuck, I—“ He breathes deep, remembers his father, always leaving, never staying, and forces out, “I’m not enough.” And he lets go of Steve’s shirt.

The seconds stretch out between them, neither speaking, and Tony closes his eyes, unwilling to watch Steve leave too. He drops his hand and tries to focus on the sound of a cricket chirping somewhere in the hedges near them. He looses himself for a few seconds, mind drifting much easier with alcohol there to grease the gears, so much so that he jumps at the feeling of fingers closing around his wrists.

He keeps his eyes closed as Steve starts to speak, “I used to stare at your hands. I knew it was creepy, but you never paid me any mind so I just… stared. I think I have about three sketchbooks worth of drawings of just your hands. It’s so impossible, what you can do. Honestly I don’t understand any of it. So you’re probably smart enough to know why I couldn’t ever believe you’re not more than enough for me.”

Steve’s lips are warm and dry against his own, a soft and steady pressure, but Tony feels brittle enough to break. Steve’s fingers tighten on his wrists and pull him closer until they’re pressed together from head to toe. He feels himself relax into it before he’s fully aware of the action, letting Steve take some of his weight as he parts his lips slowly.

Steve shudders against him and groans, a light and frustrated sound that has Tony pushing in for more before Steve pulls back with a nip at his bottom lip, “How—How much have you had to drink?” He asks as he angles his head to get a better look at Tony’s eyes.

“I—A lot,” Tony confesses reluctantly, “but I’ll remember this. I swear.” He tries pleading, leaning up into Steve’s space again for more kisses, but Steve holds him in place as he separates them, his mouth falling into a hard set line.

“I don’t think you believe that any more than I do.” Steve mumbles and looks down at his hands still caging Tony’s wrists.

“So then take me home with you,” Steve frowns but Tony soldiers on, “to _sleep_ , and we can talk in the morning, or something…” He’s slurring his words and there _is_ a fair chance he won’t remember the majority of this conversation come morning, but he doesn’t want to give himself the chance to freak out about this. If Steve’s there with him when he wakes up, he’ll be slightly less likely to bolt, _slightly_.

Steve opens his mouth to reply when he’s cut off by a sharply barked, “ _Tony_.”

Tony looks over his shoulder to find Rhodey standing behind them with his arms crossed and glaring at him with the full force of his not inconsiderable capacity for wrath, “Hi Rhodey. This is Steve.”

“I don’t give a fuck who he is,” Steve’s fingers tighten on his wrist before Rhodey turns to him, “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but this asshole needs water and sleep.”

“Both of which Steve can give me.” Tony replies, pouting now.

“Yeah, but I’m guessing that’s not what you had in mind.” Rhodey raises his eyebrow at him sardonically.

“We were just talking about sleep! Weren’t we Steve?” He looks back to Steve, who seems to be grinning and frowning at the same time.

“Yes. Just _sleep_.” He intones at Rhodey. They stare at each other for a few more seconds, trying to glare the other into submission before Tony decides to break their standoff.

“Steve’s gonna walk me home.”

“No, _I’m_ gonna drive you home. You can call him tomorrow after you’re done with the hangover from hell.” Tony winces at the reminder of what’s to come.

“You can drive us _both_ home or I can call a—what are they called?”

“Cab.” Steve and Rhodey sigh in unison.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Steve offers. Rhodey takes a second to think it over before he nods curtly and starts back towards the house.

“You two start making out in my car I’m kicking Steve to the curb!” He threatens over his shoulder as they follow him to the garage.

“He’s protective.” Steve says, coming up to lean against Rhodey’s back bumper and reaching out a hand to steady Tony every few seconds or so.

“He just doesn’t know you’re…” He trails off, humming at the feeling of Steve’s hand, warm and huge through his shirt.

“What?”

“A gentleman.” Tony grins at him. 


End file.
